


Hope with Golden Eyes

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Fluff, spoilers for A Storm of Swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gendry is hurt, alone and lost in the woods when help arrives in an unlikely form. The question is, is he running from the wolves or the memories he's locked away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope with Golden Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is just a little drabble I suppose but I had some major GendryxArya feels which I needed to feed, so here it is. Spoilers for Storm of Swords but apart from that you should be fine. Enjoy :)

"Seven Hells!" Gendry swore, reaching a hand out to steady himself on a thin tree as he unhooked his foot from the protruding root in the forest floor. It was the sixth time he had almost fallen that night, his legs had become as heavy as lead and it took most of Gendry's energy to place the next foot before the other.

The ground began to sway before his eyes and Gendry found himself slumped against the tree in exhaustion. He could faintly hear movement behind him which made his heart beat slightly faster in his heaving chest. Bandits? was the first thing to come to mind. He had had quiet enough of those bastards for one lifetime, they were the reason he was lost in this pissin' wood.

Who would have thought that delivering a single helm would be so difficult. Take the forest road Lem had said. It'll be quicker he said. When, Gendry saw that man again, if he saw him again, he was going to drag him down to each of the Seven-fucking-Hells himself.

He had been no more than half a day into his journey when he was set upon by a small group of ragged bandits. Five to be exact, and each as ugly as the next, with their faces dirty and covered in either cuts or the occasional wart; hair which was matted together with grease and home to many a flea. If there had been two or three Gendry was sure he could have taken them, or at least put up a decent fight. But five, that was a walking death trap.

The Gods must have been in his favour that day as neither of the five were terribly clever. The thin one with rat-like features had removed his sword and helm whilst the largest of the group, a ugly bald man with a thick neck and one ear, held his arms tightly behind his back. As a parting gift the bastards had beaten him bloody until he was wavering in and out of consciousness.

Thinking him dead, one of them, Gendry didn't recall which, dragged him further into the wood and left him there to rot. He had woken with no clue as to where the road was and so bet his luck and started walking.

And now he was still lost, still aching and still exhausted. His stomach had given up crying out for food hours ago and was now just a dull pain in protest. But the aches and pains of cuts, bruises and hunger were forgotten as the sounds grew closer.

A low growl but all thoughts of bandits from Gendry's head and replaced it with a darker, far more terrifying thought. Wolves!

There had been stories and rumours about groups of travellers being attacked and small villages ransacked and animals ripped to shreds but they had stopped months ago. Gendry pushed himself up from the ground, his eyes fixed on the gaps between the tall, thin trees behind him.

A huge but slender paw emerged into a beam of silver moon light which passed through the trees and Gendry began to step back. Others began to appear on either side, their teeth bared and growls escaping from the gaps between them. Each one would have been terrifying enough on their own but they were dwarfed by the single, gigantic beast in the centre. It's paws three times the size of those around it and it's grey and black head was the same. But it was the eyes which scared Gendry the most. Again, they were different from the others; they weren't laced with hunger or feral desire but warm and sparkling. The yellow colour was prominent as the wolf observed him, it's eyes wide making it appear shocked, as a human would look upon seeing someone for the first time in years.

One look from those golden eyes had Gendry running.

His legs stumbled and arms found the ground to haul him to his feet. He could hear the wolves pursuing him through the army of trees, but he did not look back. If he looked back then Gendry was certain those eyes would find his, those hauntingly familiar eyes. They're not her eyes. he told himself. It's a fucking wolf. They're not even the same bloody colour. Not the same silvery grey. No! Stop it. She's gone. Don't do this to yourself, don't think about her, it'll just hurt more and more.

But her face still flashed before his eyes. The face he had forced from his mind over the years. The little wolf girl. And Gendry saw the ground rushing up to meet him. The twigs and rocks cut his already bruised faceand his arm was caught on a sharp broken branch, leaving a deep gash on his upper right arm. "Seven Bloody Hells!" he cursed, his hand reaching to the wound as blood flowed quickly down his blackened, muscled arm and dripped onto the forest floor.

The pack formed in around him, growling and hunched backed. Gendry closed his eyes and waited for the strike. At least now I'll see her again. He smiled.

He waited and waited but the wolves never came. No teeth, no ripping no tearing of flesh from bones. Nothing but the dwindling sounds of the growls and soft padding of paws on twigs and stone. He could feel the warm blood gushing from the wound over his fingers. Tentatively, Gendry opened his eyes. The world was blurry and spinning and his head felt as if he had been struck with his hammer. But the golden eyes shone bright and grew closer and closer as his vision became clouded and black and then the warm, worried eyes were gone.

When Gendry came to, his eyes stayed closed but he knew that the blood was still running from his arm, he could feel the wetness of it. But it didn't feel right, it wasn't flowing down his arm as it had done. He shifted his weight slightly, he was leaning on a tree, his back against it and legs splayed out in front of him.

A soft, curious whimper came from the side and Gendry's eyes shot open. His head spun in protest as he whipped it around to find the huge yellow eyes of the wolf observing him, it's tongue out slightly and shining scarlet with his blood.

Instantly he moved away, his back sliding from the tree and arms reaching out behind to steady him. But a sharp pain shot through the injured right one and it gave way and he crumpled to the floor.

The wolf considered him with an almost impatient look which was alarmingly familiar and made Gendry freeze in place. He still didn't move as the animal leaned in and resumed mopping up the blood which trickled from the gash.

He watched as the wolf worked, it was only when he could feel the warmth radiating from it did he realise how cold he was.

When she was done with his arm, he didn't know for sure if it was a female but thinking she felt right, she moved on to his face, cleaning the dirt and blood, even giving a small huff which sounded like a laugh when he winced or cried out if she moved over his bruises.

Gendry's eyes began to droop again and he found his hands moving into the thick black and grey fur. The wolf paid no mind. She was soft, warm and soon his arm had snaked its way around the huge head of the beast. She moved away from his face and settled her head against his chest, the weight of her was comforting and Gendry soon slipped off to sleep with his fingers tangled in her fur.

He dreamed of her that night, for the first time in years. He dreamt of the time when they were back in the Cross roads inn, all pitched up together in that crowded room. She would mutter to herself each night but he never heard what she said exactly. That night she was restless, her legs kicked, arms reached out and her brow was creased together. Is she having a nightmare? he had thought. Gendry reached out a hand and took her shoulder, intending to wake her. But the moment he touched her she froze. Only for a moment. She began to turn around and the next thing he knew she had thrown her small, thin arm across him and moved in close so her head was between his chest and shoulder. Her brow softened and she smiled.

Gendry hadn't slept that night. His heart was jumping, ready to burst from his chest. But at the same time he was calm, content and the happiest he had felt in months. He had stroked her hair and wrapped his arm around her protectively, bringing her closer.

That's when the fight had started. There had been the sound of swords drawn and the thunderous roars of men in the yard below. She had jerked awake and sat up, taking no account of where she had been laying.

Probably for the best. Gendry had thought, trying to ignore the sudden arrival of cold air where she had just been huddled against him.

It was that familiar sensation which had woken him. He opened his eyes to find himself alone in the wood. But it wasn't the same area he had been in before. Was it all a dream? He looked to his arm to find the wound still bloody but beginning to crust over. There was also tooth marks in the thick leather shoulder of his tunic.

Before he could give this more thought, the sound of a horse and cart drifted to Gendry's ears. Hope washed though him and he pushed himself from the ground and rushed toward the sound.

Soon he stumbled out of the wood and onto a dirt road, surrounded by trees on either side. The Forest Road!

Gendry walked and walked with new found energy. Ahead of him he saw a group of crows hopping over a pile of dark forms on the road side. Getting closer he saw that parts of the road were painted with spatters of blood and limbs. Glancing at the pile on the side with the crows he found some familiar faces, their eyes pecked out and ears being nibbled at. Serves the bastards right. Gendry thought, as he watched the birds break their fast on the bandits who had attacked him.

Their limbs were scattered around the edge of the road making it impossible to tell who was who. The sound of the horse and cart grew louder and Gendry turned to see it coming around the corner behind him.

The man driving was old and once a portly soul but the war had taken it's toll and his skin around his neck had become loose and flabby from lack of food. As he approached he observed Gendry with curious muddy, brown eyes and a half smile upon his thin lips, clearly still deciding whether or not to trust the dirty, young man next to a group of dismembered limbs. "You alright lad?" he called from his cart as it came to a slow stop, his gaze wavering from Gendry to the remains of the bandits.

Gendry nodded and attempted a smile to reassure the traveller he had good intentions. "This has nothing to do with me." he said, waving a hand behind him. The words sounded like a lie to him even though he hadn't caused any of it.

"I'm sure it doesn't, boy. That's wolves that is."

"Wolves?"

"Aye, that'll be right. They aint been round here in a long while though." the old man sighed thoughtfully. "Well at least they weren't going after me livestock. Bandits are they? Got anything good on em?"

Gendry looked over and spied the large brown sack they had been carrying. Waving the small army of flies away from his face, he picked it up and brought it over to the cart, away from the fly infestation.

Couple of pouches of gold, a dagger or two, a wonky pitch fork and his sword and helm!

Gendry couldn't resist a smile as he pulled them from the depths of the woollen sack. The old man was grinning down at him as well. "Something of yours?" he laughed, accepting the sack as Gendry handed it to him. "Well, lad, someone's looking out for you up there."

Gendry's smile faltered slightly as he handled the helm. He barely took in the old man asking him if he wanted a ride. Was this her doing? The wolves? Did she send them? These questions haunted him the entire journey, he had his helm, sword and his life; but there was still something missing. It was inside, in his chest where she had nestled up to him, where the huge she-wolf had laid. He had felt cold and empty but now a tiny flicker of hope had sparked up deep inside.

She might not be gone? She's still with me, somewhere out there and I will find her. I will see her again.

"You hear that Arya Stark. I will find a way to you, I will!" Gendry muttered to the helm in his hands, the sun glinting off the shining metal as bright as the tiny spark which now burned in his heart.

~oOo~

Across the Narrow Sea, Arya Stark woke with the taste of the bandits blood still on her tongue. She wove in and out of the thick market crowed when she spotted a tall, muscular figure ahead with hair as black as coal. Gendry? No, he's far away, I've just seen him. Don't be stupid Arya! But still she made after the figure, smiling to herself as she thought of the word stupid and how many times she had called that bastard boy it. But that was another life. A dream. Yes that was the only way she could see him now. The figure turned around, and Arya saw a thin man with a wisp of a black moustache, curling up at the edges. It's not him. But you knew that, stupid girl.

Her hand reached into her pocket and fingers grasped hold of the small acorn that she had carried around. I'll see him again. She assured herself, with a smile. I can always dream, can't I.


End file.
